Countrycide
by Ennui-et-tea
Summary: Alfred somehow managed to convince the Allies to go camping, but the usual tensions between members of the group have to take a back seat when they discover that they are in the midst of something terrible - and it's not British weather. Be warned, there will be gore. Based on an episode of Torchwood written by Chris Chibnall - Google on pain of spoilers.


Grey clouds drifted overhead, casting vast shadows onto the patchwork fields of dull yellow wheat and vivid green crops. They had been driving for a while now, and once the urban landscape of towering buildings, bustling city-goers and neat rows of uniform houses had morphed into nothing save the odd cottage or farmhouse, a few trees and some scattered bushes, it had began to feel like they had been driving the same stretch of road repeatedly. Now even the lone buildings had stopped appearing, and due to the mist that hung in the air it looked as if the tiresome landscape could go on forever.

"I hate the countryside," Francis said distastefully as he stared boredly out the passenger seat window, "Dirty, unhygienic," He halted the potential torrent of adjectives and wrinkled his nose, "And what is that _smell_?"

"That would be grass," Arthur said wearily.

"Well it is disgusting!"

Yao and Ivan ignored the bickering, each lost in their own thoughts in the left and right back seats of the car. It had been the same for the entirety of the journey: either Francis or Arthur would say something and the other would retort somehow, then Arthur would get all riled up and Francis would seem vaguely amused or somewhat jaded by their quarrel – sometimes both simultaneously. And if Arthur didn't end up practically leaping forward through the gap in the two front seats in an attempt to throttle him, yet end up being held back by the seat belt locking, in which case Yao would comment on his immature conduct, sooner or later Alfred would say something obnoxious – or perhaps he only seemed obnoxious because he was so unnecessarily loud. Regardless, the sooner they arrived the better.

"Woah, is that a cow on fire or can I smell hamburgers?" Alfred said, leaning out of the window haphazardly despite being the one driving the car.

"I knew we shouldn't have let him drive," Arthur muttered to no one in particular as they pulled up next to a seedy looking caravan selling burgers out of a hatch, and the smell of the countryside was met with the smell of suspicious meat products. Alfred practically leapt out of the car, wallet already in hand in his anticipation of food. The others got out in a far less rushed pace.

"How much further is it?" Francis asked as he leant against the car, visibly posing himself as the slight wind played with his hair; you could easily imagine him standing in front of a fan for some sort of commercial. Unfortunately due to his manner it was more irritating than attractive as far as his companions were concerned.

"Not much I hope," Arthur replied moodily, "Who's got the map?"

"I have," Ivan said, unfolding the worn road pamphlet and spreading it out across the car bonnet, "At the moment we are here," he said, as Yao and Arthur leant over the map.

"That's odd," Arthur said, frowning slightly.

"What?" Yao asked.

"Nothing," he said, shaking his head.

"If it is nothing then why bring it up, hm?" Francis commented without turning.

"There have been seventeen disappearances in the last twelve months and we are at the last known whereabouts of each one – well, the twenty mile radius at least," Ivan said, "Funny, da?"

"Well, no, actually," Arthur said, reflecting the thoughts of the others, "That was what I was going to tell you,"

"And the police are clueless."

Francis chuckled slightly, "Now there's a surprise."

Just then Alfred returned, mouth full and arms laden with burgers, "Dude, do you guys want any of this?" he said almost incomprehensively.

"Well what have they got to go on?" Arthur said, ignoring Alfred and for some reason taking Francis' comment personally, "None of the bodies have ever been found; these people just fell off the radar. No patterns in age, sex, race – one minute they're here, the next they're gone."

"Ivan, Yao," Alfred passed out burgers with each name, "Francis?" He shrugged in response; taking the fact that he hadn't rejected the offer outright Alfred thrust a burger into the other's hand, "Arthur?"

He scoffed, "No thanks, I'd rather starve to death than eat that disgusting slop."

"Ah c'mon, Artie!"

"A friend of mine caught hepatitis off a burger from one of these places," he said casually, causing Yao to cease chewing and Russia to swallow his mouthful uncomfortably; Francis gave what he'd been given a contemptuous glance before tossing it into a bin.

Alfred just blinked dumbly and paused for a moment before continuing eating, "So, anyway, this whole missing person thing – have they considered aliens?" He said as he made a start on his third burger.

"Oh honestly Alfred, aliens aren't going to bother hanging around out here," Francis said, gesturing to their dreary surrounding, "If there are aliens that is," he added sceptically, "It's probably some sort of weird suicide club with everyone choosing the same place to end it all. I don't blame them – if I had to spend too long up here I would probably consider it too."

"The most recent victim was around here I think," Ivan said, pointing to an area a few miles up the road.

Alfred glanced to where he was pointing, "Looks as good a place as any to set up camp."

Arthur raised his eyebrows, "Sorry… did you say camp?"

"What, there are no hotels around here?" Yao said.

"People are going missing around here; do you really want to stay in a place run by strangers?" Alfred said with a crooked half-smile.

"Oh, because sleeping outside's going to be a lot safer!" Arthur replied sarcastically.

"No other race in the Universe goes camping – just ask Tony."

"Oh God, here we go!"


End file.
